Cries In the Night
by Rome-mano Empire
Summary: Spain returns from the new world a changed man. Romano doesnt like this new Antonio. Inquisition Spain, Human names used, blood, gore and rape in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hello ^^ This is my first Yaoi type story, and also my first dark story. The next couple of chapters will be better than this. I promise~ I will try my hardest to try and pull it off~ Its not really accurate age-wise either. But regardless enjoy~

Chapter 1

Lovino was seated casually in a dark blue armchair waiting for his friend, Antonio, to return home from his voyage overseas. This hadn't been the Spaniard's first voyage and most likely not his last, his boss was increasingly interested in this "new world" that had been discovered. For years now he'd go back and forth between Spain and the new world. Lovino would never admit it, but he missed the conquistador- it was so lonely always waiting for him to return.

The candles that lit up the enormous waiting room flickered. Lovino was bored, Antonio's arrivals were usually very late although enthusiastic, being the idiot he was. He would come through the door looking as though he'd never left and greet the Italian with what seemed like the most chipper smile in the world. He was the only person who was always happy to see Lovino, no matter the circumstances. That was something the boy would also never admit. He liked it when Spain greeted him with that never-ending smile, even if it was stupid.

It was way too dull waiting inside Spain's house. Lovino moved location to the outdoors, it felt nice to breathe the fresh air. Plus, this way he could watch for the brunette's return. As he set foot outside he sighed contently. He was already enjoying the sunlight beaming down comfortingly on his skin. Today was a good day for the Spaniard to return.

Hours had passed and Lovino had fallen asleep on the porch in the warm sunlight. He only awoke when he sensed the presence of another country, low and behold he saw Antonio, walking down the dirt way up to his home. He was carrying multiple bags, so it looked like he was dawdling.

Lovino raced to his feet to greet the Spanish man who he had missed so. He tried not to look too excited though, it wasn't like he was going to go all crazy over the bastard. He did leave him all alone for about a year and a half. The Spaniard couldn't fully expect Lovino to greet him with hugs and kisses, as much as he'd always longed for that. Lovino wasn't the type to be so sugary sweet on him.

Antonio stopped before the Italian silently. This surprised Lovino. There was no "There's my little tomato" or a broad yet idiotic smile on his face. Instead they were replaced by an unnerving half smirk (It was too cocky looking to really be a smile). His once bright and dazzling green eyes were intense and dull. The aura of Spain had changed entirely. It was so different than what the Italian had ever seen of him; he had changed in that time he spent in the new world.

"Hello Romano," he said in an obscure tone. It brought shivers down Lovino's spine. Since when did Antonio call him Romano? It had never been often that he had called him that, especially in such a tone. It annoyed him, causing his fists to clench and cheeks to go red.

Antonio looked the boy over with apathy. There was something in his eyes that showed something very sinister and lustful that distracted from the calmness of his face. He raised a hand and held it under Lovino's chin with a firm grip. He appeared to be examining him further.

In a fit of annoyed rage, Lovino smacked Antonio's hand away from his face and instantaneously went to his default pissed off mood and blush on his face had deepened from the contact with the man.

"What the hell, Antonio!" Lovino hissed defensively like a frightened cat.

For a moment Spain gave the boy a disturbingly murderous glare, as if he would take him down and kill him that very instant. He tightened the grip he had around his axe, which somehow Lovino had neglected to notice at first, the boy trying his hardest not to cringe at the feeling he was getting from Antonio. The grip loosened slightly as a brief twitch let itself forth in one of the Spaniard's eyes, before he completely let what Lovino said go. He smiled in a somewhat malicious way as he set his hand on top of the boy's head, and then passed him without any further words, then sauntering into his large, mansion-like house, shutting the door behind him.

Lovino just stood there with a blank expression after Antonio left. He didn't know how to react to any of that. Should he be mad? Upset? Scared? Antonio wasn't the same as before his voyage. There was something desolate and frightening about him now that hadn't been there before, it could be seen deep within the depths of those no longer shining green eyes. In the abysmal of those eyes there was now a fire raging of a passion Lovino could not see or understand.

Furrowing his brow, Lovino marched back into the house to see Antonio setting his bags on the floor. The man didn't seem to pay him any mind and shuffled through the bags, only annoying the Italian further as he puffed out his cheeks and glared at the Spaniard. He loathed the thought of being ignored.

"Antonio!" Lovino finally snapped at him.

Spain's head went up slowly and he glanced back at him with indifference. His hands lay entrenched in a brown bag filled to the rim with metal items, his new smile once again taking vacancy on his face, and making Lovino grimmace. It wasn't even a happy smile, just one of cruel intent. He took his hands out of the bag, clenched.

"What? Did you expect some sort of compensation from my return?" Antonio hummed lightheartedly.

Lovino frowned at the rudeness of the question, he had expected at least a nice siesta with him at his return. He always anticipated it. There wasn't a time Antonio _didn't_ want to have a nice long siesta with the Italian. What had caused this change? He snapped back from his thoughts of siestas to answer the question.

Glaring he said, "N…no! I don't expect anything from you!"

"Tsk. You're such a bad liar," Antonio informed as he opened his fist, letting a gold chain with a golden cross medallion attached to it dangle from his fingertips. Swinging it back and forth like a pendulum in his grasp, his stare had briefly negated from staring intently at the medallion and back to Lovino.

"Don't be so modest. I already knew you'd want something. I brought this treasure back just for you." He got to his feet and walked back up to his ward. He unclasped the chain and set his arms around Lovino's neck, reclasping the hook back together with the other side. He backed off, inspecting the gift he'd just given the lad.

Lovino peered at the gold now around his neck. This was not what he had expected and Antonio never gave him any such gifts. It was horribly gawdy, being so large and made out of gold. He noticed how pleased the other man looked. His happiness wasn't sincere, but he felt no need to question the motives behind it.

Spain didn't seem to care that Lovino didn't answer him. Instead, he got to his feet to grab his bags. He actually seemed happier that he had gotten Lovino to shut up. It was a rare occasion when that happened, it seemed. Grabbing all his bags, Antonio wandered up the stairs to his room. It took Lovino a minute to regain his composure to follow him up there. He felt compelled to still be near the Spaniard even though he was changed.

Once he had wandered to Antonio's room, Lovino halted in the threshold, watching as the older man slowly took out his things and put them away in various places. The Italian cleared his throat to catch his attention, but was ignored. Spain didn't seem in the least interested in him. This new attitude of his was really starting to become a hindrance. Again he cleared his throat, only louder this time, Spain halting his activities and almost glaring back at him in annoyance.

"What do you want now?" He growled! When did he ever growl?

Lovino stood there for a long amount of time, silent and slightly afraid of his supposed friend. He wasn't sure how he would say what he wanted to say, he was either going to yell and make Antonio mad or choke on his words and sound like some love-sick idiot; which he wasn't. His heart did sink though as he watched the man's frown begin to turn into a glare. His voice now seemed frozen from the icy glare of the Spaniard.

He quickly averted his eyes to look at Antonio's bed. That's where they normally took siestas before he had left and become this stranger Lovino only knew by his looks. He almost sighed as he remembered those times. While Spain was gone he had slept in that bed; he was less lonely that way. At the moment, though, he felt lonelier than before.

"What are you looking at the bed for?" Antonio's voice persisted in annoyance.

Lovino glared, but did not turn his attention back to Antonio. Instead he stuttered his reply at the bed.

"S…Siesta…." He murmured almost inaudibly.

Antonio paused. Lovino glanced at him through the corner of his eye. He no longer appeared annoyed, just a tad confused. He watched as the stern look on his face melted down into expressionlessness. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"A siesta you say?" He murmured, considering.

Lovino glared again, embarrassed. He wasn't usually the one who asked for siestas unless he really wanted one. He didn't really want one though at the moment because he was afraid of what Spain might do. It was just so strange seeing him this way, and all he could do to answer Antonio's question was nod.

Another long pause. It was pretty much killing him with the suspense. What was so hard about a decision like that? Why the fuck did he take so lo-

The moment when Lovino had stopped looking at the Spaniard he had been pressed onto the bed with force, pinned to the bed by the vigorous powerful body of the other country. His arms were tightly held above his head, leaving him defenseless. He peered up at the face of his assailant in shock. There was a wide, slightly malicious grin across his face. He was boring down on the Italian with those dull, lustful green eyes with intensity.

"I hadn't planned on taking any siestas today…I still don't really want to. Maybe if I could be convinced otherwise?" He leaned his face down by Lovino's neck as he spoke. His lips against the soft flesh tickled, causing the boy to shudder.

"What the fuck, Spain?" Lovino exclaimed, face turning red. "Get the fuck off me!" He attempted to struggle, but the other was still much too strong to push off.

Spain bit the nape of his neck, causing him to wince. Lovino continued to struggle beneath him, so he bit harder, drawing blood. He cried out a little at the Spaniard's vicious bite, immediately stopping all struggle, as to not hurt himself further. He could feel those Spanish lips curl into another smirk when he had stopped.

Chuckling, Antonio finally stopped biting the poor boy and climbed up onto his bed. Lovino shot up immediately after he let go and glared, holding the side of his neck where the skin had been broken. The older man made sure to take off his boots slowly, the entire time never taking his eyes off the young Italian. He looked so expressionless again, though, and it would have made him cringe if he hadn't decided to momentarily smile the boy's way.

After taking off his boots, the Spaniard lied down in the nice warm bed. He snuggled under the covers, almost looking like a very content child. He scooted over to the left side of the bed, making room for Lovino to join- with that same awful smirk he invited him to his bed.

"Are you going to lie down?" He asked, tauntingly. "You're the one who wanted the siesta with me."

Lovino gulped down the lump in his throat. He hesitated for a moment before gradually climbing back onto the bed. He could feel the soft blankets that he was so familiar with give under him, although really too afraid _not_ to join Antonio for a siesta. He threw his own shoes to the floor before getting under the covers, facing away from him. There was no way he was going to watch that scary bastard while he slept! The changes that had occurred were just too much to handle at that moment. Maybe he was acting different because he was tired. That had to be it. When they woke up he would be the cheery idiot of a man he could freely yell at without being a little afraid of again. That was it. There was no way Antonio would be unintentionally cruel to the boy he'd fought so hard to keep with him. There was just no way.

Lovino dozed off as he was lost in thought. He had convinced himself that Antonio would be fine when they woke up. Siestas were always a great stress reliever. He would have his normal Spaniard back. There was no doubt about it.


	2. Chapter 2

=7= CHAPTER 2 is finally here~ Sorry i take so long. I write this only when I have enough spare time for it. Im really glad so many people liked the first chapter. ^^ Im still apprehensive on how i shall write the later chapters but im sure i will figure it out.

Chapter 2

Lovino awoke from the siesta feeling much better. He stretched and yawned, turning over to look at his beloved Spaniard. He had planned to "unintentionally" roll in close to Antonio to cuddle; if the conquistador was awake, though, he'd really have to cover his story. He couldn't let him know he actually liked snuggling. He was going sticking to the story that he had unintentionally rolled up to him. His small plan was halted when he soon noticed there was no one there to snuggle, though still unsure, he patted the empty half of the bed to see if he was really gone, and it wasn't a lie. He really wasn't there.

He sat up abruptly, looking all around the room for Antonio. It was strange, he never woke up before Lovino, or when he did he remained in the bed to cuddle. He _never _just up and left without a word. Maybe he got up to get something to eat or along those lines, he didn't have anything when he arrived.

Lovino hopped out of the bed, getting a sudden chill from the cold hard floor. Did the damn floors always have to be so cold? He tried to ignore the fact that it was so frigid and walked to the kitchen to greet Antonio, the idiot probably hurting himself trying to make dinner. He used to always do that before he left. No matter how much the Italian whined and griped about it, he insisted on making dinner for the two of them. Lovino actually liked it when he did that, but his pride always blocked his ability to tell Antonio such things.

The kitchen was completely vacant when he arrived, no traces that Antonio even entered, because he hadn't. It was strange, where was the Spaniard if he wasn't making dinner?

Lovino exited the kitchen so he could search the rest of the house, the conquistador being in none of the rooms he searched, seriously frustrating the Italian. Where the fuck was Antonio? Never once had the damn Spanish bastard just up and left without a word to him, why would he now? What possible reason could he have to leave without as much as a word to him?

He stomped out of the room he'd been searching in, more annoyed than before. Stomping down to the waiting room once more, his plan consisted of waiting for Spain to return home, then chewing his ass out for it. Even if it was really late. He was going to wait. That was until he let his tiredness get the best of him.

Lovino had never been a heavy sleeper. When he heard the door open, his eyes lazily flicked open halfway to see who had arrived, too tired to actually get up. He watched as a shadowed figure, who he knew was Spain, walked up to the sofa he sat on. The Italian said not a word to him as he did the same, neither's expression able to be seen. Too dazed from barely being awake, Lovino fell back to sleep, not being able to get himself to currently care. Even though he knew he had planned on chewing out the Spaniard for leaving without a word. He was just too tired.

He didn't wake up until well past noon, sitting up and finally realizing what had happened in his brief moment of consciousness. He let Antonio off scott-free! In a fit of rage he stood up, stopping only when he watched a blanket fall off his lap. He glanced at it confused for a minute. When did that get there? He didn't recall ever getting a blanket for himself.. ..Antonio must have put it on him. He picked it up and gently set it back on the couch, slightly less angry with the Spaniard now, although that didn't mean he wasn't going to go and yell at him for not telling him where the hell he was going.

He marched upstairs the brunette's room, merely finding the bastard absent from the facinity. He cursed for a few minutes. The conquistador had left him _again_! He stormed downstairs to go make himself lunch, plotting to do something like use up all the food- _that_ would get him back for leaving him alone. He was totally going to do it, too.. ..Or maybe not. He didn't want to starve at a later time because he ate all the food in one sitting. He grudgingly decided have a more simple lunch instead.

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No matter how long Lovino seemed to wait, Antonio always came home late in the night and left before he could ever have a chance to wake up. He hadn't seen him for well over four days now, and realized a country could be very busy, but _Spain_? Spain was actually _busy_? Why couldn't he take time from his schedule to see him? Even an hour would be fine, but this hasn't ever happened before! There had always been time made for him before this whole "new world" shit. He'd had enough of it! Lovino swore to himself he'd stay up just so he could argue with that man. There was no reason he should leave him alone all the time like this!

The waiting was tedious as always, but he refused to sleep, given his new goal. He was determined to stay awake; a man like Antonio needed to be yelled at for being an ass and leaving him alone. It wasn't much longer before he could hear the door creak open.

Lovino raced to his feet, a firm glare now plastered on his face, prepared to swear the bastard out. Everything he was going to say was already planned out, he'd had the time from the past couple of days he spent alone. The moment he saw the dark figure of the Spaniard enter the house he let loose,

"ANTONIO!" There was so much anger in his voice he made himself jump, but Antonio didn't so much as start, simply walking over to a candelabra and setting fire to the wicks on the candles inside it. He could see his facial expression clearly at that, a vicious glare on the man's face as he held up the candelabra. The Italian was going to yell again, but froze with his jaw gaped when he finally noticed the other's appearance. What…. What did he have stained all over his clothes? Was it… blood? It looked like blood. It was even on his face, some, too..

"You're actually awake for once, I'm surprised," Antonio informed in a cold tone, not really giving much notice to the fact Lovino was gawking at his filthy clothes.

He started to unbutton his shirt, slowly. The glare on his face turned to neutral as he pulled it off and briefly wandered away to toss it, the poor Italian still standing there wondering if that really was blood he saw on the Spaniard's clothes. It wasn't long before he returned, still shirtless, smirking casually at him.

"Well since you're up you should make me dinner," he more of demanded than suggested. Lovino answered him back with a glare but had turned and walked toward the kitchen. He knew that Antonio was still the same as when he returned. He didn't dare deny his requests. There was just something about him that he didn't want to mess with. Gathering all the ingredients he needed, he set them in their cookery. He was going to make the bastard pasta, since Italian food was all he knew, or let him figure out how to cook. He had too much pride to learn anything else.

Antonio joined him in the kitchen when he was about halfway through making the pasta, sitting at the small table that was placed opposite of where Lovino was cooking. He watched the boy cook with interest, Lovino not looking back at him for a while. He didn't want look at him right now. Regardless, curiosity got the best of him and he did glance back to see a shirtless Spaniard whose eyes were locked on his person. He winced a bit when he also realized that he hadn't washed his face yet.

"…S…Spain…What's on your face?" He asked nervously.

Antonio grinned in a mischievous manner. He set his chin to his palm and leaned into the table, the dark coldness in his eyes showing, letting Lovino know that wasn't a good question to ask.

"That's none of your business. Don't worry about it," he announced, the smile plastered to his face slowly fading, soon changing to a dangerous glare. "NEVER ask me again."

Lovino gulped, holding back his trembling. Turning away from the man, he went back to the pasta, which was at last done,dumping it onto a plate and quickly serving it. Antonio stared at it for a long while, then glanced back at him with a stern glare.

"I didn't want Italian food. Why would you ever think I wanted that?" He growled in a low tone, pushing the plate away from him. And now Romano was starting to get mad. He was too good for Italian food now? He knew very well that's all he knew how to make, why did he even ask if he knew that!

"Fuck you, Spain!" Lovino's voice rose, "I'm not making you anything but Italian food!"

Antonio became amused by his anger, "I want my own food. And you had better make it if you know what's good for you."

"Hell no! Make it yourself!" The raging Italian growled.

Like lightning Antonio got to his feet. Everything went by too quick after that. Lovino hadn't even caught onto what he was doing until he realized he had been turned around with his arm twisted painfully behind him, his face down into the pasta he just made. Spain was leaned down extremely close to him; a light iron scent clung to his skin. He pressed down harder on the Italian making him cry out.

"Make my dinner right. I will not hesitate to break your arm off," he whispered platonically.

"Ok, ok!" Cried the Italian as his arm became further twisted.

Spain finally let him go and sat back at the table, patiently going to wait for some "good" food now. He watched as Lovino shakily slid off the table, rubbing his arm, and going back to prepare the food he had not the slightest idea how to make. He didn't even bother wiping off the pasta sauce that was still on the right side of his face.

He kept looking at the floor. He had no idea what to do, he didn't know how to make Spanish food. He stood there for the longest time, staring, unable to figure it out.

He could hear Spain lightly chuckle in the background. When he spoke there was cruelty in his voice.

"Go back to bed and never stay up for me again," he demanded.

Somewhat distraught, Lovino left the kitchen without a second thought. He didn't want to stay another minute in that room. Not with Antonio who had shoved his face into a plate of pasta. Why did he even ask for him to make it? It only confused him the more he thought about it. What confused him the most was what had caused the conquistador to change in such a manner to make him to act like this? He knew now that he wasn't weary from his trip- this change was real. The old Spain he knew was gone.

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Before he decided to go to sleep he washed off the sauce that was drying on his face. As he did so he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked more than shaken. His eyes were still a little wide in shock, the pasta sauce stuck to his face, a little having gotten into his now largely unruly hair. He ran a rag through his locks to get it out. That was nice. He looked like such a mess.

After cleaning up, the young Italian wandered up to Antonio's bed. He wasn't sure why he had decided to sleep here again, he didn't really want to be in the same bed as that bastard, but he also didn't want to be alone still. Even though he'd just experienced something unlike he had ever seen from the Spaniard, he didn't like the feeling of being alone.

It was strange. Never once had Antonio so much as raised a hand against him, yet tonight he had put him in his place. He was bemused by the actions that had taken place- the thoughts all swirled around in his head, bothering him. There was just way too much for him to comprehend about this new personality.

Not long after Lovino had settled himself into the bed the Spaniard had come in to join him. He went stiff as Spain came in and lay next to him. He really hoped he couldn't tell he was still awake. And he didn't want him to find out, so he stayed as still as possible. The hint of iron no longer clung to the conquistador's skin and now he simply smelled of Spanish rice.

Lovino internally sighed. What was the point in ever having him make dinner he didn't even want? Especially when he was able to make it himself easily? He didn't understand this new Spain at all, and wasn't even sure if he really wanted to. He was scary. The kind of scary Antonio usually protected him from. But Romano was sure he hadn't even seen the worst part of what Spain could do yet, not by a longshot. He tried to get the thoughts out of his mind but they wouldn't go away. He didn't sleep very well that night.


	3. Chapter 3

=7= Yay i got this one done just in time for spring break~ I am a little nervous about this chapter, having not written in such a way before... *hugs Lovi plus* T^T Poor Lovino! *cries* XD Well enjoy and i shall have the next chapter up when i get a chance to write it~

Chapter 3

The sleepless nights seemed to never end for Lovino. He could always hear when Spain returned from whatever he went off to do every day. He wanted to know so badly what the hell that Spanish bastard did to occupy his time to such a severity, but by this point he knew better than to intercept him when he got home in the night. He didn't want to end up facedown into another plate of pasta. Still, the thought of Spain going somewhere, and him not knowing where that somewhere was, was eating away at him. He wanted to know so badly but there was no way he would tell him that.

"Stupid Spanish Bastard," the Italian grumbled as he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"What about me?" That voice immediately startled Lovino, causing him to pounce in the air, almost falling off the bed.

"S…Spain!" He exclaimed, shocked by the Spaniard's appearance on his bed. Wasn't he supposed to be off doing whatever he normally did since he had come home? Why was he there?

"Didn't expect me here?" He smirked at Romano.

He glared at him, not amused. "Why would I fucking expect you here," he announced in a cold tone, glaring entirely at the floor instead of him.

Spain partially laughed at his comment, frightening Lovino. God! That laugh was so sadistic! It made him tremble. Where the hell had Antonio learned to laugh like that? And when did he learn to act like this?

He watched from the corner of his eye as Spain gradually came closer to him. He attempted to scoot away from him, but he took that as a sign to take his move and pushed Lovino to the other end of the bed, the end near the wall. The Italian's head struck the wooden headboard hard, wincing and cursing as Spain furthered his advances on him, pinning him to the wall.

"Fuck! Spain, what the—" Lovino's argument was interrupted by Spanish lips abruptly pressing to his own. It wasn't just a simple kiss, either. The damn horny Spaniard was going all out, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Apparently, regardless of changing personality, Spain was still the country of passion. He certainly just proved that to poor Romano.

Pissed off and embarrassed beyond compare, he struggled to get the much stronger Spanish idiot off him. He pushed and squirmed around, finally managing to break away the kiss. He was gasping for air, he hadn't let him breathe at all.

Once he caught his breath he gave Spain a severe death glare. When he tried to make another move he pushed him away, he wouldn't have any more of that.

"Goddammit, Spain!" He yelled, face beet red from the embarrassment, "what the hell makes you think you can just fucking kiss me whenever the hell you want?"

Spain frowned once more, which meant nothing good for Lovino. With a somewhat enraged look on his face the Spaniard grabbed the boy by his auburn locks and pulled down hard, causing him to yelp. He then proceeded by continuing his pull on Romano's hair, drawing a knife up to his throat.

"What makes you think you can get away with yelling at me like that? I can do whatever the hell I want when I want. It's best you know your place before I have to punish you for your attitude," Spain's tone was excessively cold when he spoke, sounding dead serious.

He sat there, trembling. All he could think to do was merely nod and agree with him; he was too much of a coward not to.

Spain's face switched from a very disgruntled anger to a harsh smirk. He removed the knife from his ward's neck but moved it up to his cheek, softly letting the blade skim the trembling Italian's skin. He really seemed to enjoy striking fear into people recently.

Romano looked away as Spain teased him with the knife. He was so scared, why would he even do this? If he hadn't been trembling so hard he would have made another attempt to push off the bastard, but then there was a chance he'd be cut by the knife. He didn't handle pain very well so he remained still other than his quivering.

The conquistador grinned broadly as he began to move the knife down Lovino's face, neck, then halting at his chest. Hooking the blade under his shirt, he pulled it towards himself, cutting through the cloth. Flinching, Lovino mustered enough courage to growl at him. How dare he destroy his shirt! He began to struggle under him again, his hair unfortunately still bunched up in the hands of the cruel Spaniard. He cried out again as it was given another sharp pull.

"I told you, if you don't learn your place, you will get punished," he coldheartedly announced, leaning in closer to the whining Italian and bringing his knife back up to his face. He soon moved it back to his chest. Without wasting time he pressed down and slowly ran the blade down Lovino's torso. The boy wailed even louder as the Spanish bastard cut him.

Still grinning, Spain removed the knife and tossed it to the side; his sadistic grin never fading. He shifted further toward Romano's bleeding chest, focused. Setting his tongue on the wound, he began to lick the blood off. As he did so his free hand crept down to the lower part of his body. It burrowed beneath the young man's pants, still heading even lower.

"Stop it!" Lovino finally managed to yell out as the hand was getting extremely close to his vital regions. He was ignored. Instead Antonio rushed his hand to the younger country's vitals, squeezing hard. He let out a low moan and winced. Spain was such an overbearing bastard! His hands were unbearably merciless, holding on without loosening his tight grip on the other's member.

Just as he had begun to lick more blood off Lovino there was a feint noise echoing from downstairs. At first he continued, but the noise became more prominent. Growling slightly as the mood had been killed, he removed himself from the stunned Italian and stomped downstairs, apparent that he was extremely mad for the interruption.

Lovino remained there after Spain had left, confused and frozen in place. He wasn't entirely sure what to think of the situation, other than feeling violated. His chest twanged in pain as he heard the conquistador yelling downstairs. That was a sound that made him shudder. He almost wondered who he was yelling at, but wasn't ever going to bother asking. He'd learned his lesson never to question Antonio to his face. That just led to him being 'punished'.

He slowly sat up in a shaken manner, wrapping his arms around his knees, looking to the ground. The yelling was starting to fade, which hopefully meant that Antonio had calmed down. He glanced out the window to see Spain and another man walking away from the house. The business must have been urgent if they left right away like that. Lovino was glad that he left, which meant he didn't have to deal with being violated again.

Romano hopped off the bed after noticing his chest still bleeding, making his way to the wash basin, dampening a cloth so he could clean his wound.

"Fuck!" He recoiled after hardly touching the wound. "D…Damn that Spanish bastard!" He continued to clean himself, but not really having any remaining energy. He felt completely disgusted with Antonio for doing that to him. He was more disgusted with himself for letting it happen, though…letting himself be touched there. Once his wound was clean he took an anxious glance back at Antonio's bed. It no longer seemed to be a place of comfort anymore- He wouldn't be able to sleep there without feeling distraught in some way. From now on, to avoid any more mishaps like the one he had just encountered, he would sleep in his own room. Like hell if he'd ever sleep with Spain again.

Wordlessly he exited the room and found his way into his own. It had been a long while since the last time he had entered his own room. While Spain was off in the new world he completely abandoned this place. Most of his clothes had been moved into the older country's room. He hadn't seen much of this stuff in well over a year. He sat on his bed, which wasn't half as comfortable as the other, but he didn't care. He could handle the discomfort. It was better than being debased by Spain.

xXXXXXXXx

Lovino hadn't left his room for the rest of the day. He found no point in it. He wasn't hungry and he had no energy to do anything else but lay in his room. His brain was on a sort of overload because of the whole 'violated' thing. At the moment he didn't even care where Spain had gone, and technically that other man had saved him from whatever Spain had had planned. And he didn't really want to know what it was. Who knew what kind of sadistic things ran through the mind of that idiot nowadays. He wasn't even his idiot anymore. That… _thing_ that he saw every day didn't even deserve a name. That monster was not Antonio in any shape or form. He refused to believe that he was.

From his bed he glanced out the window at the amber dimness of the dying Spanish sun. It almost made him miss his own country… almost. Italy was a beautiful place, but living with his brother was wearisome. Feliciano was the biggest idiot he'd had the displeasure of knowing. It was hard to believe he was half of that country. The little moron could hardly take care of himself without getting into some kind of stupid problem. Although, was that really bad compared to how Spain acted?

He sighed as he saw Antonio walk up the dirt road back to his home. Cringing from the sight of the seemingly 'innocent' Spaniard, Lovino backed away from the window to lie on his bed again. He knew better than to go greet the asshole. Who knew what he'd do to him. He listened as Spain's footsteps passed by his room. That was good. Maybe he wouldn't notice there was a certain Italian missing from his bed. Lovino closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep at last. He was tired from thinking continuously about what had happened that day- He just needed the rest.

Just when Romano thought he was safe, nestled in his bed, there was a slow creaking noise from the door to his room, the Italian becoming frigidly still. His heart began to race as the footsteps he knew only as Spain's treaded closer and closer to his bed. Lovino tried to act as if he was asleep, but he was scared. He held his breath as the sound of footsteps faded beside his bed. He was hoping with all his might that Antonio would just leave.

He shrank back a bit as Spain's body made its way onto his bed, already leering over him. He tensed as he felt the conquistador's hand reach over to clutch the blanket that was draped over his head, without hesitation stripping the blanket from over the fear stricken country, tossing it to the side. Much to Lovino's dismay he fiercely grasped him by the shoulders and turned him over on the bed so now he was lying face down. He yelped as his wounded chest was forced harshly on the bed.

"GODDAMMIT SPAIN!" He yelled, even though he knew that was a very poor idea.

He heard a low growl from the Spaniard above him. Lovi was almost glad that it was too dark to see his face. A sharp pain came from his head as the bastard pulled it back by his hair again. His face was right next to his, lips touching his ear as he spoke.

"No more interruptions," He whispered, letting the lad's hair go and proceeding to kiss his neck, grinning when he felt him shudder. Soon after, he turned his attention to his pants, slidding his hands off so he could reach back to grab onto the young man's trousers. With a brisk tug he already had his pants halfway down. Romano began to struggle,

"What the fuck are you doing? Get the fuck off me now!" He yelled, but sounding less than intimidating. He attempted to turn around so he could kick off the bastard, but the other was holding him down too hard. He was much weaker when placed facedown like that, and he could tell Spain was grinning like no other at the moment, especially when he completely pulled his pants off. Lovino yelped again when he copped a feel at his exposed ass.

"D…Don't!" He whined angrily.

He could hear a soft chuckle emit from the other country's chest. He was not going to stop it seemed. Lovino arched his back to try to glare back at him but was soon pushed down, earning a little more pain from his wound again.

Both the Spaniard's hands abruptly snaked their way back down to his ass. He shrieked as his hands lodged themselves in between his legs, beginning to spread them apart. Lovino tried to lock his legs back together in a panic. He didn't understand what he was going to do to him, but he knew it wasn't anything he wanted.

"Spain, don't!" He droned uneasily.

The other merely retorted with a laugh. Keeping himself between the boy's legs to keep them spread, he advanced to the now parting Lovino's ass. It was hard because he was so tense, but rapidly he took hold of his waist and pulled him up with trouble. Romano tried to be glued to the bed as best he could. The younger country was clutching onto the sheets for dear life as his body was propped up into a position he preferred not to be in. Spain was still looming over him, holding onto him, tightly preventing all means of escape. He sat up more promptly, getting into position behind the confused Italian.

By now Lovino had finally figured out what Spain was trying to do to him. He couldn't get out of his grasp but he could probably struggle just enough to get himself free. He quickly sat all the way up so his body wasn't bent over, making him less vulnerable back there. He reared is arm back, elbowing his assailant in the face. When Spain finally let go due to the pain he bounded off the bed. Unfortunately, the Spaniard was swift to recover. He leapt right after the Italian, tackling him to the ground.

In a rage he turned Lovino onto his back this time, set himself between the young man's legs, and struck him across the right side of his face. His fury was beyond compare as he no longer did anything slowly. He spread his legs wide and without any further ado thrust himself into the poor Italian.

After that point everything seemed to go hazy for Lovino. He could remember moaning and screaming for him to stop so many times, but the rest was almost like one horrible yet swift nightmare. He was being violated in the worst way possible.

When Spain finally felt the need to stop he took himself out of the younger country, smirking intently. He didn't even care that there were tears streaming down the Italian's face because of this. Leaning over him, he lifted the cross medallion that was lying slightly askew next to the boy's head. He elevated it up to his face and kissed it, then clutched it tightly in his grasp.

"You see this?" He grinned malevolently at his ward. "This is a symbol showing the entire world that you are mine and mine alone. Make sure you take note of that. You are never to defy me again." After those last few words Spain finally let himself completely off Lovino. He left, content to know that he'd taught him a lesson.

Lovino sat up blankly for a second. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. Curling up in a corner and hugging his knees for dear life he cried harder. He didn't know how much longer he could stand staying in a house with such a monster as Spain. He didn't want to stay anymore, but was now too terrified to leave. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let himself be soiled by a monster?


	4. Chapter 4

Well here's ch 4 0w0

Chapter 4

It had been a few days since the horrible incident with Spain. Lovino felt sick to his stomach. He was glad Spain had become busy since then, meaning he couldn t get to him. Still, he was curious as to just what he was doing that he spent so much time with. How did this bastard spend his time? Maybe if he was lucky he could find out. Just as long as he didn t get caught. Who knew what would happen if Spain caught him. He didn t really want to follow, but he was curious. And the conquistador had just set foot outside. He could easily stay hidden long enough just to find out where he was going.  
He snuck out the door, watching as Spain walked down the dirt road. Lovino followed at a safe distance, even though Antonio hadn't walked very far. He was still on his own property, walking up to a tower that he recognized. Before Spain had done all that new world business, he told him never to go in there and always kept it locked. Lovino could never break in no matter how hard he tried. And he did in fact try. Many times. So this is where he went so often? What kind of secrets did he have hidden inside that made him go to lengths to prevent the Italian from entering?

Lovino started to follow the Spaniard at a closer distance as he approached the door, curiousity replacing fear. He was so close now, so close to finally finding out what was inside the tower that had been shut up tightly for as long as he could remember. He watched as he started to unlock the door, the Italian's eyes glued to the frame's edge, Spain suddenly removing the key from the lock without turning it. He quickly turned around and glared directly in Lovino s direction. The younger country hadn t noticed he'd let himself out in the open.

"Get over here, Romano!" He yelled brutishly.

The Italian stood there until Spain more firmly yelled "Now!" He soon shuffled over as fast as he could.

Spain wasted no time when his ward arrived and punched him directly in the jaw. Lovino reeled back from the conquistador's strong blow, glaring back at the sadistic man who was even more furious than he was. Still, he couldn't control when the words slipped from his mouth. Habits die hard.

"What the fuck, Spain?" His natural response was always to yell profanities at an assailant then often run away after. Although with Spain he used to be able to hold his ground. Times change and he had already learned the hard way. But no matter how much he wanted to run right now, he couldn t get his legs to go.

Spain raced up to him again, latching onto his shoulders and kneeing him in the stomach, hard. Lovino coughed harshly, choking on his own air, and doubled over from the bastard s brutal advances. His eyes glazed over, and he vomited on the ground. Still glaring, he looked back once more at the abusive asshole.

"How many times will it take to get it through that idiotic thick skull of yours that you are NEVER to follow me and you are NEVER to talk to me like that. How much punishment are you really willing to let yourself receive? Hmm?" Spain was in his face now, grasping the collar of his shirt and starting to pull him up. "I still don t think this was enough." He growled, jerking him up the rest of the way. He dragged the younger country all the way back home.

Lovino stumbled a lot along the way. His body was still shaken from being kneed so hard in the stomach. Spain threw him to the floor the moment they set foot through the door, the younger country sitting up quickly and glaring back once more, but soon eyes widening in terror as he watched Spain take a candelabra from a table, spilling out the candles. He slowly walked up to the young man, grinning casually. He knew that there was nowhere the Italian could go now. Spain's arm raised, his grin becoming more maniacal by the second. The last moment Lovino could remember before he passed out was the Spaniard's terrible, sadistic grin as he slowly left consciousness.

xXxXxXx

Lovino had no idea how long he d been out for, but it seemed like a lot of time had passed before he had finally opened his eyes again. He sat up stiffly, noticing the chill of the hard stone floor beneath him, which was causing his back to ache. He was completely naked, to make matters worse. Vaguely he looked around for his clothes, which were nowhere in sight. It was a useless attempt in itself. He stood up, shaking and wincing, hurting nearly everywhere. He staggered, feeling somewhat dizzy. The wound on his head hurt, a lot. He reached up to feel the swollen area, grimacing. Hugging himself for comfort, he made his way up the stairs. He knew the reason for his condition, there were no questions, and the pain in his ass made that very clear. He felt utterly dirty, so he made his way into the washroom to take a bath. He lit as many candles as he could before letting himself slide into the wooden tub. At this point he noticed his worn reflection in the water. He looked fearful and badly beaten; there were even bruises about his face. He slashed the water and forced himself to look away. That wasn't him, that couldn t be him. He was a sullen young country who was well taken care of and had good friends...lies. He knew better, he knew better than to believe in what he once was believe in what Spain used to be. Tears formed in his eyes as he grabbed a washcloth and desperately began to scrub at his skin.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn t get rid of the feeling of being something trashed. He cried harder and scrubbed until his skin went raw. His breathing raced as his anxiety took over, he just couldn t get clean enough.

His body jolted as the door slowly creaked open. Spain slowly walked through it, smiling. It was the closest Lovino had seen him appear to his old self in a long time. It was somewhat cynical but rather joyous. As the Spaniard approached, Lovino cringed, backing to the rear of the tub. He watched fearfully as he leaned against the opposite edge of it.

"Hello, Lovino," He said in the sweet tone the Italian was no longer familiar with. "I have some fascinating news for you." He was looking down at the water, smirking, casually stirring his finger around in it. Quietly, Lovino set his gaze on Spain, who was grinning at him again. He detected some malice in that smile. He leaned in a little closer to him, but still clutched the wooden tub.

"I've received word that your brother is coming over to visit us tomorrow. Isn't that great? Dear Feliciano wants to know how we are doing~" His mouth twitched a little as his smile became more artificial.

Lovino started to worry. The way Spain was acting really disturbed him. He opened his mouth to say something, but right before he could get the words out, Antonio rapidly changed his position. The older country took him by the shoulders with a vice-like grip and pushed him under the water, only giving him the chance to have a glimpse of his face before being driven under the water. It was that of pure rage.

The conquistador watched uncaringly as Lovino flailed under the water. His hands were grasping and clawing at the sides of the tub, frantic to raise him up to get some air. It was a useless attempt against Spain, who had his ward firmly pinned under the water. After letting the boy suffer for about a minute or so, he finally let him up.

Lovino coughed and gasped for air. He hung over the edge, wheezing, relieved that he could finally breathe again. Spain stood up behind him, but leaned over, once again taking hold of the medallion that had flipped over Romano s shoulder when he emerged.

"Behave when your brother gets here or I will do worse than that," He informed bluntly. He exited immediately after, leaving the young Italian to sit there in a depressed manner. It seemed to Lovino there was just no way out.

xXxXxXx

Feliciano arrived early the next morning, a hyperactive ball of stupidity and joy, just as he always was. He didn't bother with knocking or anything of the sort, entering the house with a loud "Ciao!~" He even came up and managed to find Lovino, who was still fast asleep in his room. He pounced on him, hugging and cooing in excitement.

"Ve~ Fratello!~" Feliciano smiled at his still drowsy older brother.

Lovino winced from his brother s weight on him. He was on a few bruises and it hurt. He meekly glanced up at Feliciano, wishing he had glared instead, but he felt like if he were to do that Spain would beat him at a later time. He breathed out a sigh, which his brother caught onto very quickly.

"What s the matter, Romano?" He asked, tilting his head, "Are you not happy to see me?"

Lovino tensed. He could _**not**_ tell him what had been going on since Spain's return. It was embarrassing and he was ashamed of himself for letting all of it happen. Still, he wasn't sure if he could really have stopped him if he had tried. He was a powerful country now, and one without a soul. No one with a real soul could do such things to another person, especially one they once cared about. He bit his lip and looked away from Feliciano.

Feliciano's face contorted into a dismayed frown. Peering down at his sibling, tears forming in his eyes, he whined, "You really don't want to see me! It took a lot for me to get some time off to visit you and big brother Spain!" Lovino flinched when his brother said the monster s name, still with the same pet name as always attached like it has always been. He peered back at him, face now stern.

"I'm not upset that you're here," he growled.

"Then why are you acting like this? Is- -"

"I think he's just tired, Feliciano," an all too familiar voice announced from the doorway in a cheery manner. It was Spain. He was standing in the door, smiling at the two siblings. Lovino turned his sights to a wall as Feliciano leapt off him and bounded to the Spaniard. He was apparently still under the impression that Spain could be kind. He bit his lip as he heard him calling to the conquistador happily.

"Big brother Spain!~ How was your trip home?" Feliciano enthusiastically questioned.

"Oh, it was the same as always. It feels nice to finally be back, though," Spain informed with fake enthusiasm.

"So, Lovi is just tired? He doesn't hate me?" The youngest of the three countries smiled, glancing back at his brother.

"Of course. Let s all go back downstairs since a bedroom isn't a proper place for a visit," Spain responded, walking out.

"Come on, Fratello~" Feliciano was waiting for Lovino impatiently.

Lovino sluggishly left his bed, walking awkwardly up to his brother. Damn Spanish bastard just had to get him while he was knocked out. He wasn't sure when the pain was going to go away, either. He tried not to show his discomfort to Feliciano, though. If he knew...he shook his head, trying not to think about what would happen if his careless little brother found out. He was sure he would be very disappointed, although concerned. That was all he needed. The idiot might get himself killed if he stood up to Spain. As much as he annoyed him he would still rather not have him be murdered over him. He was his brother after all.

"Ve why are you walking so funny, Romano?" Of course the observant idiot had noticed how oddly he was walking. It was a good thing he couldn't read the atmosphere.

Glaring at the floor he muttered a simple "It's nothing, Veneziano."

"But you look like you're in pain, and is that a bruise on your face?" Feliciano gaped in concern. "Why are you so beat up? What happened?"

Lovino clenched his teeth, grumbling. He was trying his hardest to keep his temper down, lest Spain beat him more. He silently continued to walk down the hall toward the stairs.

"Lovi, I couldn't hear you," Feliciano whined once more. He was beginning to panic.

"I said stop asking fucking questions! What happens to me is none of your business!" Lovino had finally blew a fuse. He panted slightly from a mixture of fear and his little yelling fit, glaring at his startled younger brother.

"But I wanna know what's wrong! Why won't you tell me?" Feliciano was desperate to know.

Lovino had not listened to his brother this time. Instead he was looking wide eyed at the stairs in dismay. His fists bunched up at his sides and he gulped. Spain must have heard him yell. He knew he looked noticeably scared. Other than his fists clenched, his body froze in place, but shook fearfully. Noticing how scared stiff Lovino was, Feliciano raced to his side, wrapping his arms around his brother.

"What s wrong? Fratello, what's so scary? Is it something here? Please tell me," Feliciano shook his scared brother some but got no reaction out of him. He only continued to stare blindly at the stairs. There was a loud stomping of feet. The younger Italian soon zoomed behind Romano, becoming scared as well, mirroring his brother out of having no idea of what was coming up those steps.

Thankfully the only thing that came up the stairs was Spain. He glared at both Italians with his fierce green eyes, the brothers shrinking back from such a glare. Feliciano had never seen Antonio with an expression like that in his entire life. It was one that easily struck fear into anyone who caught such a gaze. He bit back a pang of sympathy.

"Feliciano!" He snarled, causing the northern part of Italy jump. His tone soon turned dark and to a quiet rumble, "It s time for you to go home."

"Go home? But I only just got here! I didn t get to visit at all!" Feliciano droned, pouting.

Spain didn't even bother with an answer. He just came up to the boy, grabbed him by his shirt, and started to drag him off. The younger of the two siblings was utterly confused. Why couldn't he stay any longer? He was now extremely worried for his brother. Something was really, really wrong. Between the lack of his brother's bitching and whining and the lack of Spain's kind personality, he was beyond confused. What was going on?

Lovino listened to his brother whining on his trip down the stairs. He was trying to talk Antonio out of making him leave, but it was a feeble attempt. He could hear as Spain opened up the door, his brother s voice fading. He assumed the Spaniard locked the door this time, to keep the pest out.

Lovino almost began to cry as he listened to Spain s footsteps. They were quicker, almost at a run. He made his way up to him in no time. Romano began to back up as he approached closer. Out of the corners of his eyes he could tell he'd become cornered.

"I told you to behave!" the monster yelled, grabbing the younger country by his hair, throwing him swiftly to the ground.

"I was behaving!" Lovino, still being Lovino, managed to get his rebellious side out once more. It was just a bad habit of his.

Spain's face contorted into a vicious, angry snarl. "Shut the fuck up!" It was really the first time Lovino had heard him say that word.

Spain came up to his ward and kicked him as he tried to get up. When Romano was down he proceeded by kicking him in the stomach and various other places. He only stopped when he heard the clock chime a few times. He looked annoyed now.

"Damn Heretics," He mumbled, leaving Lovino on his spot on the floor. He was gone, and Romano knew exactly where he was going. That tower. That damn fucking secret tower of his.

Lovino glared at the small puddle of his own blood on the floor. He couldn't let himself waste away like this. He needed to know what was going on and why Spain had become a monster. The secrets of how he had become that way had to be deeply confined in the tower. Even if he were to get caught or this was his final act, Lovino was going to go there. He would learn why there was no longer a sweet Antonio to cuddle him. Standing up, he wiped the blood off his face, and staggered down the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello all ^^ Sorry about last chapter i don't know what happened to the apostrophes... I tried fixing it but it was being a bitch. *Shrugs* I think its fixed now (Hopefully) If not I appologize again in advance if they are missing again. For this chapter I only did light research so if i got something incorrect I'm sorry 0A0. On a better note here's chapter 5~ Enjoy XD

Chapter 5

Lovino lurked through the night, now viewing a wall section of Spain's tower. The journey felt longer than it should have, but maybe that was because he was still in so much pain. His body panged from the beating he had previously received before he dared to venture out after the conquistador into the dark of the late hour. He was sure, since he was left in such a state of disrepair, that the bastard would not have suspected that he would have trailed him.

He scowled upon looking up at the tower, lone and sinister in its standstill. There was something vaguely ominous about it. A little more than vaguely. Well, if Spain went there, it was obviously ominous. Any place that damned country went would be. He just made it that way. He approached the door with some caution, knowing there was no turning back now. He wanted to just run away and abandon this mess behind him, but his curiosity wouldn t let him leave. He opened the door. He had to know first.

When he entered the tower he noticed two flights of stairs, one leading down into the dungeon and the other led to the very top. He assumed that there was nothing interesting in the dungeon so he began to walk carefully up the stairs to see what Antonio had kept hidden from him for so long. He also hoped Spain wasn't waiting for him at the top though, although it was possible he wasn't even there. He liked the sound of the second option; this excursion could cost him dearly.

The stairs kept going all the way until there was but a poorly crafted wooden door at the top. He gulped as he approached the shabby entrance, his hand shaking as he took the handle in his grasp. He tried to settle his breathing and compose himself a bit; it was now or never. This might be the only place he could find out what had happened to Spain. It was either that or the conquistador was waiting on the other side for him, eager to attack and degrade him further. The clamy Italian closed his eyes as he was finally able to will himself to open the door. Pure silence, other than the creaking of the tarnished wooden door, filled in around him. He opened his eyes with relief to find no one else in the room. Instead, the walls were layered with paintings, catholic matters, gold, and the huge axe Antonio had brandished when he first came home. He shuddered to think of how he must have used that thing. It was extrodinarily menacing, even when not in use. He passed it by as quickly as he could further into the depths of the room, but switched it for the view of some rather disturbing paintings. Most of them were of the Spanish men, mass murdering what looked to be the people of the New World, killing only the ones not wearing crucifixes around their necks. Spain was in a few of these, joined in the slaughter. Lovino had to turn away from them, feeling his stomach pitch a bit.  
Approaching the Catholic shrine, he noticed some papers on a table. The Italian shuffled through the massive pile, finding most traced back to the first few times Spain had transversed to the New World. There were also some more current ones, though it was hard to tell what they revealed from the dim lighting of nearby torches. He could make out a few words but that was about all. The most commonly used word that he could see in most of the documents was Heretics. He shuddered. Were there really that many people committing the act of heresy? He knew there was a vast selection of religions within Spain. But Spain himself, because of his boss, was a Catholic. Lovino had known this for a long time, he was Catholic himself, but now the fact disturbed him.

Romano went to continue looking through the papers in a more in-depth perspective, before a horrid blood curdling scream rose from below him. It was the most horrifying sound the young country had ever heard in all his life, jumping and gasping fearfully. That noise had to have been coming from the dungeon. He stood there for the longest time, his mind in a whirl. Did he dare go down there? Would he really risk his life going into the unknown to see who had uttered the scream, and why they were screaming in such a way? It didn't take long before Lovino s legs simply moved on their own. He was heading down to face what he could only suspect as a living hell. Every once in a while the screams would return and Lovino would flinch on his journey down the steps. Was Spain doing all of this? He didn't really want to know, he wanted to leave and escape right then, yet his body kept going further down those wicked steps, each movement closing into the depths of the tower, by now already shaking, though not taking notice of it. Finally, he reached the bottom. The only thing that was between him and the dungeon now was the crude door, similarly resembling the one upstairs.  
He took hold of the door handle, but there it was. That scream again. Just beyond the door. He bit his lip, it was so loud that whoever it was sounded like they were in tremendous pain. His grip tightened when he heard a voice other than the screaming. He used to know this voice. And it was one he could never forget.

"You really won t convert? That's a damn shame." Spain sounded so unbearably cruel as his voice soaked through the door.

The screaming broke out once more, causing the Italian to jump and push open the door. He looked on, wide-eyed in horror, taking several minutes for him to process the shock to his system, even when Spain looked furiously back to find him present. He was speechless. The room reeked of blood, and was dark enough to obscure most detail, but through the dim lighting various devices could be seen. He had no idea what they were for, though there was the possibility he would figure that out on his own soon. The screams he heard were still coming from a far corner of the room, but were dying quickly. He glanced over only to find a man lying on a wooden frame, his limbs stretched from his body. His head was lolled in the direction away from him, but the trembling from his body betrayed the fact that he was crying.

"Get him off," Spain's voice cruelly echoed, causing Lovino to snap from his horrified staring at the man, looking now to the monster once more. "He won't confess tonight. We shall continue tomorrow. Get him out of here." The other men were all clad in dark robes, Lovino was stunned that he hadn't noticed them when he had first entered, although seeing everything that was within the room was a huge shock. He watched as they roughly carried the sobbing man through another set of doors on an adjacent wall. The look on his face wasn't able to conceal the massive pain he was facing, and he felt bad for him.

The moment the doors closed, Spain began to speak once more. "I told you not to follow me here." His tone was deeply unpleasant.

Lovino just stood there, staring at him, terrified, looking over Spain's appearance with dismay. He was wearing one of the same dark robes as the other men, wearing a golden cross medallion similar to the one he himself wore. He shuddered at the cold appearance of the Spaniard before him, though at least he wasn t covered in blood, like some of the days when he returned home. Still, this was what he most feared about heading into the tower. Getting caught by Spain.

Spain took a step toward him. His continually angry glare made him want to up and leave, and this was the most brave he had been in what had to be the entirety of his life. He was scared, but couldn't work himself to move, not really sure if he could actually call this bravery anymore. There were much braver men than he was. In the end he was a coward, and too afraid to even move.

"You just can t get enough of being punished, can you?" Antonio asked in an almost smug manner.

"N no," Lovino trailed, hardly getting his words spoken.

"But you disobeyed me, so obviously you must wish to be disciplined ~" the Spaniard informed bluntly. "Plus, we are in a special room made just for punishment. He began to circle around the younger country. What should I use, what should I use?~ It must be something that would cause you so much pain that you would never again dare to do this a second time, but it also mustn't kill you." He traced a finger along Lovino s body as he circled. The cruelest stare filled his face as he was filled with malice.

"Strappado or the Rack would do nicely. They are similar and would not kill you," he told him casually.

"S strappado?" Lovino gulped. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was talking about.

"Yes~ you get pulled up by your arms, tied by rope; sometimes weights are applied to make it hurt more. Depending on what you did more weights might be added until your arms are pulled from their sockets ~" Antonio s face crowned a small but nevertheless disturbing smile as he spoke of the punishment, "I think the Rack is a little worse, though," he chuckled. "The man you saw being taken away had the pleasure of being put on the Rack." Lovino closed his eyes tightly. So that man was being punished? Was it for being a heretic? It was confusing. He didn't seem like the type of person to be terrible enough to be tortured in such a way.

"With the Rack your arms and legs get strapped to the frame while we slowly pull and pull and pull," Spain was speaking in an eerily cheerful tone now, "until your arms and legs are pulled from their sockets. Just like the Strappado. Doesn't that just sound so wonderfully fun, Lovi? ~" Lovino couldn't take it anymore. He turned tail and fled from the dungeon of the tower. His mind had finally broken its grip on him, and he was booking it, surprisingly enough, even through the pain in his body. He didn't care. He knew well enough to stay out of Spain's tower. He would never set foot there again. He did not want to be hurt in terrible ways that Spain had described.

Hour upon endless hour seemed to pass by as the poor Italian ran from that hellish tower. He knew in actuality it wasn't as long, but with the pain from his wounded body time became a chore to carry himself through. He only wanted to run now. He wanted to leave Spain and all the terrible things he'd done and done to him behind. Hell, he'd rather go back and live with Feliciano in Italy. His brother would never and could never intentionally hurt him like this. He was more fragile than he was, actually.

Lovino finally slowed down his pace, pulling to a stop with weight on each of his limbs and the bottom of his stomach dropping out, only wanting to cry. He was in front of Spain s house. Life could never be easy on him. He couldn't escape this place-not tonight, anyways. He was exhausted by now and didn't want to go out after being beat up, adding to the fact it was already late at night. He could run into trouble if he left tonight, even though it was poor in comparison to what Spain could do to him. He started to walk toward the door solemnly; one more night he would let the torture pass, but he would abandon for good come the hours of tomorrow. He would feel good enough to travel tomorrow, or at least better. It would be when the sun glowered indifferently overhead and he hadn't been running for a long time prior.

He slowly made his way up to his own room, dark and uninviting in atmosphere. His room was unlike most rooms, in the fact that he found no comfort or safety there. How could anyone feel safe when Spain was around and would constantly let himself in to do as he wished? Lovino collapsed onto his bed, fatigued. How he longed for this day to end. He could only doze off as he thought about it, out after a few moments with closed eyes. Once morning hit he was going to wake up and turn his life around. Spain was something he needed to run from. He knew very well that he could not stay and fight this.

xXxXxXx

Lovino awoke early the next morning, and eager to leave his soon to be ex-boss's house. Hastily, he seized a small sack and stuffed it full of his clothes and personal belongings. He hoped Spain couldn't hear him shuffling about within his room. That was all he wanted right now, to not be noticed. He couldn't stand to see him as he was on his way out. Clutching the bag close to his chest, he stood, gathering thoughts. No matter if he was to see Spain on his way out, he was going to leave. He had had enough of it all. He stepped up to the door and grasped the handle. After this, it was off to Italy. He turned it, but there was no click per usual. He pulled and shook at it, but it wouldn't open. He tried again, more forcefully, still no budging of the door away from the frame. He started to panic. Why was the door locked? He continued his useless efforts of trying to open the door, whining as desperation kicked in.

It took a long while for the Italian to finally give up. He knelt next to it, silently whining **_no_** over and over again. He set his head on the frame, confused and trapped. A small sense of claustrophobia kicked in as he let forth a distressed moan. Did Spain suspect him of leaving? He should have left the night before. He was guaranteed his freedom then, but no, he was too much of a coward to go out on his own at night. He had been afraid and exhausted, but if he wanted to leave that badly he would have. He should have.

He sighed, just sitting against the door for a very long time. He only moved when he heard the door click. It was opening. He waited for Spain to enter as he backed away from it.

"You know, Romano," Spain said as he finally let himself into the room, "I cannot just forget what you did last night. I don't think you understand what you did." He came in and loomed over the sitting Italian, a crooked grin spread devilishly over his face. This only meant he was not pleased. He then looked like he was going to lose it when Lovino gave him a pouty glare in return. Instead, he continued to speak.

"I'm actually being rather generous with you. I m only locking you in your room." Lovino became only more dismayed. That bastard really was trapping him. He tried to calm down but the attempt was incredibly feeble. He knew Spain could see the fear in his eyes, too. The bastard always could. He watched grimly as the Spaniard turned and left him. Apparently, he had only come into the room because he had heard his struggles, just to tell him he was no longer able to roam his home freely.

The moment Lovino made sure Antonio was completely gone and out of hearing range, he bolted to the window. Throwing it open, he began to climb out. He tried his best not to look down. He was at least two stories up, and only clinging to the edges of the house, as he slowly made his way down, getting the worst sense of vertigo. He soon found himself looking down anyway, that damn curiosity and natural reflex, and really wishing he hadn't. He began to loose his balance as he turned to a more anxious state, his limbs shaking from the fear of falling. His heart pounded as he began to feel dizzy. He was falling apart and wasn t even close to reaching the bottom. Still, something inside him had the greater power, and he refused to return to that room. That place that no longer felt secure, no longer felt safe, that he never wanted to set foot in ever again.

Lovino made one more fraught move toward the ground, unfortunately the footholding was none too sturdy. He was falling. It didn't take long before everything went pitch black.


	6. Chapter 6

I havnt got anything to say for this chapter =7= Enjoy~

Chapter 6

Lovino woke up uncomfortably, defiantly not where he had originally fallen. The floor was cold and the lighting was dull and dim over the area. Wait. Both those things seemed all too familiar. The realization caused him to became more alert; he was in Spain s tower, in the dungeon. He tried to sit up, but his arms and legs were both bound with rope. Frantically, he looked all around, eyes wide with dread.

The sudden noise of a wheel slowly turning caught his attention before he noticed his arms, tied tightly behind him, being slowly raised up. He whined from the pain as the rope began to pull him from the ground. The pain in his arms became gradually worse the higher the rope pulled him upwards, wailing when he began to feel the extra weight tied to his legs. He clenched his teeth together, grinding bone against bone. He finally recognized what was happening to him, and Spain had explained this form of torture to him the day before nonetheless. This must be the Strappado that he so fondly spoke of, venomous glare trained on him.

The ropes stopped after he was a few feet in the air. Tears welled in his eyes from the aching in his arms, believing at any moment his shoulders would dislocate. They hurt as if they already were. He watched as Spain walked out from where he had most likely been pulling the rope. His face was stern, but he remained silent, and sympathy for Lovino was nonexistent. He chuckled at the younger country's pain before slipping back into his cover of darkness, just out of the shallow light's reach. He had turned into such a damned, creepy, disturbing country.

Lovino's head sagged, watching his tears pool onto the floor. There was no hope for him. He wasn't meant to escape from this fight- not now, not ever. He let out a scream as the rope abruptly lost all its hold and he dropped to the floor, grinding his teeth further at the painful and awkward angle he had fallen to, but the pain was extinguished when he soon felt the pain in his arms once more. He winced, stretching his arms, panging from being pulled out further than intended. They hadn't dislocated, but the pain lingered.

Spain came back into view, strolling in a casual manner, the same expression layered over his face. He kicked the Italian in the stomach before untying his arms and legs. Lovino yipped and spurted. He felt like a useless piece of trash being hauled over Spain s shoulder like this, he hated it. The conquistador carried the limp Italian all the way back to his house in this manner. The entire time the only thing the younger country could get himself to look at was the golden medallion around his neck that swung back and forth in an almost taunting manner. He thought of what his life would have been like if he had just left that first time Spain had left for the New World. He surely would not have had to deal with this torment, this bastard. The question was why he stayed in the first place. Maybe it was because he had grown accustomed to the sweet part of Spain, never realizing he could ever change into something so terrible. He had loved that part of the older country. Now he was only disgusted with him.

Lovino had all together checked out into his thoughts until Spain deliberately dropping him onto his bed in his room brought him back to the world around him. He looked up, startled, as the Spaniard came down on him immediately. His hands wandered the Italian's body, grabbing him in various places, causing him to become highly uncomfortable. As he came up to kiss the boy s neck, Lovino bent forward and bit his shoulder, hard. He could feel the Spaniard's cringe from his bite, but he was soon pushed off, receiving another punch to his already bruised face. He had enraged Spain once more, thankfully that being all he decided to do before hopping off the bed.

Spain began to make his way out, stopping once to look back at Lovino in a cold manner, growling. "Don't you ever try to escape again, next time you won't walk away with your life."

Lovino's eyes widened. Spain wanted to kill him? He was willing to throw him away that easily? He watched as he exited, then plopping himself back onto his bed. Depression surrounded him as he became more and more regretful for not leaving when he had the chance; he should have known. He should have always known. He shouldn't have ever figured he could ever trust that bastard. When he was young, Spain had somehow convinced him that he was safe and could always be trusted. Lovino had been a dumb kid then, he didn't know any better. He shouldn't have let those feelings bleed into the present. It had cost him much more than he could have ever imagined. The Italian fell into sleep with his discomforting thoughts. He didn't sleep well that night.

xXxXxXxX

Days passed and Lovino was still trapped within his room. Spain only came in now to either beat him or to pleasure himself. By now, he no longer even struggled when he entered his room. There wasn't any point in it anymore. All of it was entirely hopeless. He was stuck in a pit of despair, barely even feeling like the same person anymore. Everything around him felt numb, and he was becoming weaker as the days turned to weeks. He was fed close to nothing and wasn't sure how much longer he would have until he would finally, graciously, die. That was all he really wanted, now. Death. Being caged like a bird was terrible, limited to staying in one place day after day with the added turtore and trauma the bastard decided to bring. It was all so trivial and pointless- he was only an object now to that Spanish monster. He could easily be thrown away, like nothing. That's what he'd been told and shown over and over again. Why couldn't his life just end here and now and make it easier on him?

Lovino was sitting on his bed in deep, miserable thought. He knew his life was passing him by, only he no longer cared. What was life but a simple and pointless passing of a day to him? He curled up, emotionlessly, waiting for Spain or death to come visit.

Minutes passed as a small tapping noise came from what sounded like his window. He brushed it off, thinking he was merely hearing things. The tapping continued. He tried to ignore the distraction the best he could, but it became so annoying. They only continued. He thought he had finally lost his sanity, that was until he heard his name called in a clear, concerned manner. He stumbled from his bed and raced the best he could to his window.

"Fratello! Please! Answer me!" Feliciano was standing below his window, desperately looking up at him with concern and several small stones in his grasp. He smiled slightly when he found him looking down upon him, concern still mostly spread across his face. "Lovino! I m so happy to see you're alive!" Lovino stared down at his brother in a dizzying manner, taking a while for him to fully comprehend what was going on. He was probably slow from a lack of food. Once he regained some of his senses back, he became incredibly fearful for his brother's life.

"F Feliciano! Why the hell are you here?" He whispered down at him hoarsely, clenching the frame of the window roughly as his body began to shake. "You need to get out of here before Spain finds out!"

The younger Italian shook his head. "Lovino, I'm not leaving without you," he said in a stern manner, expression hardening.

Lovino was in awe. Feliciano had never, once, been this heroic. How had he even mustered up enough courage to come and get him? He began to shake his head continuously. What was he thinking, coming all this way just to get him? It was like a death sentence. Didn't he realize what Spain was like after the last time he visited? Well, he obviously didn't if he was here, at least. Lovino was the one who had received the blunt of his anger that time, anyway. He shouldn't expect Feli to know.

"Seriously, Feliciano! I m fine. Get away from here!" He called a little more loudly to him, still trying to keep his voice down, in case Spain was nearby.

"I'm not leaving without you, Fratello. I haven't seen you since that day. I even tried to come back so many times to see you, but big brother Spain wouldn't let me in," Feliciano whined in concern.

Lovino gave the ground a hesitant look, the vertigo returning, causing him to force his eyes shut.

"Feliciano, I can't. Go home and for-" He started but was cut off by his brother.

"All of Europe knows what Spain is like now! You re in so much danger here! Please! I beg you! Come back to Italy with me! I don't want you to die here!" Feliciano stared up at him with tears in his large eyes, visible even in the dimming sunlight.

Lovino bit his bottom lip, taking deep breaths. Feliciano had cried over him, he was still cared about by at least one person. He couldn't let him down by staying here and dying so horribly. Quickly, before he went on his descent, he ripped off the damned medallion that Spain had used to show he was his, throwing it at the door. He was no longer going to be this bastard's bitch. Body trembling, he slowly let himself out the window. Of course, he never learned well, and looked down again. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut, clinging frantically to the still open window.

"Don't worry, Fratello," Feliciano called in a reassuring manner. "I'll catch you if you fall, I promise with all my heart."

The scared Italian took another deep breath in, forcing the air back out to calm himself. His brother's words had soothed him some. If he could make it down and just not look, just climb, he was dead sure he could make it. If he fell and wasn't caught, that was still better than being cooped up in Spain's house, wasting away.

It was hard to keep a good grip on the wall, mostly because he had become so weak. He tried to shake it off, climbing down blindly. He refused to let his little brother down. Whatever happened to him after this, he would hopefully be much happier, although scarred for life.

He wasn't sure where he was on the wall, but his arms and legs had quickly become tired. He couldn't hold on much longer, and he tried to climb down at a faster pace, slipping. As he fell, he refused to open his eyes this time. If this was the end, so be it. He had had enough of life.

Surprisingly, the fall didn t take long and he landed on something soft. He couldn't say it didn't hurt when he landed, but he wasn't dead or knocked out. He heard his younger brother's words softly behind him. "Ve~ Good job, Lovino. You made it down and only fell with a little left to go~" He allowed himself to open his eyes, seeing the sweet face of his brother smiling cordially down at him. He embraced him firmly, never having been so happy to see that little twit in his entire life. He continued until Feliciano pushed him away, the younger country getting to his feet, taking hold of his brother's hand.

"Come on, Lovino," Italy smiled, "it's time for you to go home." With those last few words, he pulled the other farther and farther away from hell on Earth. Lovino was still so tired, and eventually they stopped. He collapsed to his knees, unable to carry on. Malnutrition left him unable to run very far, and he cried.

Determined, Feliciano helped him up, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He began to sluggishly push themselves forward.

"Just a little farther, Lovi, and we don t have to walk the rest of the way. I promise," Lovino had never realized how much his younger brother had cared for him. He was always caught up in his own selfish wants and desires to ever even notice. Why hadn't he ever noticed? He was such a sweet person. He sighed but continued to push himself to go further. The more distance he put between Spain and himself the better. Unfortunately, his consciousness betrayed him just before they reached their destination. He assumed poor Feliciano had carried him the rest of the way.

xXxXxXx

Lovino regained his senses a few hours later, the land around him smelling suddenly familiar, like home. He sat up to find he was in a cart drawn by a horse, looking up and being able to recognize the man who was directing the horse as being Italian by just glancing at him, although he was too dazed to say anything. He turned to his side, finding Feliciano wide awake right next to him.

"Are you feeling better now, Romano?" He asked, concern still in his voice.

He merely nodded his head in reply, in no mood to talk. He instead turned his attention out towards the scenery; Italy. His home. He thought he would never see this beautiful land ever again. He smiled at the place he and his brother personified. How he missed this place. He was so glad to finally be coming home.

"We're almost there," the young lad's voice eased to his ears. By now, he was leaned over the side of the cart, simply watching his beautiful Italy go by. The relief of it all was overwhelming. He was out of Spain's grasp. At least for now. That was all he cared about. He didn't think he could miss anyone or any place as much as he now felt.

The cart stopped in front of the house he and his brother were raised in. His gaze was glued to it, feeling only relief. He would never have to be tortured as long as he was here.

Feliciano helped him out of the cart without hesitation. Lovino had him stop as they were on their way to the door, looking back at the driver. Without thinking, "Gracias, mi amigo," slipped out. The driver gave him a confused look, only speaking Italian.

Feliciano quickly corrected his brother, noticing the hurt look on his face after accidentally speaking Spanish. He knew that the last thing he wanted to hear now was Spanish. Lovi most likely hated everything about Spain at this point. He watched as his brother's head sagged, beginning to cry. He hurridly took him into the house and gave him a tight hug.

"It's okay now, Lovi. You're home now. I'll make sure Spain never takes you again," he assured his brother.

Lovino cried continuously on his brother's shoulder for hours. He was experiencing so many emotions at once, but mostly happy to have escaped the depths of hell where a sadistic Spanish demon had once destroyed him on so many levels. If he were to never see him again it would be too soon.

(Technically that was the end but there will be an epilogue ^^ I hope everyone enjoyed this though~~)


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